The Night I Stopped Living
by The Scene
Summary: Sirius reflects on the fateful night of his best friend's death.


**"The Night I Stopped Living"**  
  
The moment I arrived at Godric's Hollow that fateful day was when I truly stopped living.  
  
I had known after Peter went missing of my beloved friends' fates; there had been no other explanation. But there had been a tiny glimmer of hope inside of me, a tiny voice saying that I might be wrong, that everything might be okay. But that voice was a liar.  
  
I had flown my motorcycle over from Pettigrew's "hideout". I had realized with horror what had happened when dear Peter was nowhere to be found. I looked down from the sky, expecting to see the Potters' house approaching below, but to my dismay, there was no house. Just wreckage, things burning...  
  
"My God," I whispered. I began to descend. Time slowed. It's not a good thing for time to slow in a crisis situation, for it gives you more time to think. More time to come to horrible, sickening conclusions. No, time slowing was definitely not a good thing.  
  
I landed and cautiously stepped off my bike. I tiptoed over pieces of scattered debris and staggered towards the remnants of the once-house, frightened more of what I'd find there than the depths of hell itself.  
  
There was no sign of my beloved friends at first. I thanked God, because for a moment, one sheer blissful moment, I thought they simply hadn't been home when this unspeakable tragedy had occurred. I felt like laughing.  
  
But the laughter quickly died in my throat when I caught sight of something. I had to squint at first, for the something was a few yards away from me and besides the stars, which were covered mostly by clouds, it was pitch-black outside. I cautiously drew closer, my hand reflexively reaching for the inside pocket of my robes, where my wand lay. The first thing I distinctly saw was messy black hair. One moment I was completely calm, the next reality hit me with a sudden, violent jolt. I knew what it was. More appropriately, "_what_". Not a "_who_". It wasn't a person anymore. I felt a lump accumulating in my throat. It was an inanimate object. The _body _of my best friend, I thought, sickened. I stepped closer. His glasses had apparently been thrown from their original position, for they lied a few inches from his face, which left his hazel eyes uncovered, staring unseeingly up at the black sky.  
  
Vomit rose quickly up my throat and I inclined my head to the side and retched. My best friend was dead. All hope was lost for me. If James was dead, Harry and Lily certainly were also.  
  
But then I heard a small noise. A tiny whimper at first, but then the noise grew into full-fledged crying. It was a baby. I was so lost to myself that at first I didn't even register it in my mind. All I could think about was James.  
  
I couldn't think of a time in the past decade where James hadn't been by my side, through thick and thin.... except, of course, for now. Where was he now?  
  
I tried to hold back tears, after all, I never cried. I got angry, sure, but I didn't cry.  
  
My attempt failed, and sobs broke through. I collapsed onto the ground with my face buried in my hands, and I stayed there for an eternity... until I heard that sound again, drowning out my own desperate sobs. The sound of a baby crying. It was Harry, I realized as my wails abruptly ceased. But... why was he alive? Why was _Harry_, hardly more than an infant, alive and my best friend and his wife, two of the smartest, most talented people I know, dead? Not that I didn't want Harry to be alive, of course I did, but why _was_ he? Voldemort surely would have killed him, after all, isn't that what he wanted to do in the first place?  
  
I walked up slowly, cautiously, to my godson, who was lying amongst the debris, but I didn't pick him up. I admit, I was frightened. I noticed a cut on the boy's forehead, it took the interesting shape of a lightning bolt; I then realized that this was no ordinary cut.  
  
I was so perplexed by the whole situation, that I hadn't noticed the half- giant behind me.  
  
"Oh, Sirius," he said. I about jumped out of my skin, but he didn't seem to notice. "It...It's true then, eh?" It was Hagrid. He looked at the damage all around him, then took out an oversized handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. I was still staring at this miraculous boy, Harry Potter. Hagrid had an unusually gentle demeanor towards me, I realized it must be because I looked utterly terrified. I had been trembling for quite some time and hadn't noticed it until Hagrid placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and the trembling ceased.  
  
"I-I'm afraid I got strict orders from Dumbledore ter take little-" he paused for a moment to blow his nose once again. "Little Harry ter his aunt an' uncle."  
  
I felt all the blood drain from my face. "No, Hagrid! Please, let me take him! I'm his godfather, and his legal guardian. Please, h-he's all I've got left of James and Lily..." I wanted to keep on begging, but I simply didn't have the strength.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sirius, but I got strict orders from Dumbledore here, and I can' disobey orders, like I said, I'm ter take little Harry ter his aunt an' uncle."  
  
But why did Dumbledore give orders for Harry to go live with them, those horrible muggles, instead of me? ...Dumbledore thought this whole mess was my fault. He believed me to be the traitor. But no, it _was_ my fault. Although I was not the one who betrayed them, if it hadn't been for me and my foolish little plan... It was a sickening revelation, but a true one nonetheless, it _was_ my fault, albeit I was not aware at the time of the repercussions to my actions when I made the decision that determined the Potters' fates.  
  
But _Dumbledore_ thought _I_ was the one who had betrayed the Potters, he believed me to be the spy, the informant, the turncoat... and that was all that mattered. He, and the rest who knew the Potters had been under the Fideleus charm, believed _me_ to be their murderer, in one sense or another.  
  
I then felt an unspeakable fury inside of me, unlike any anger I had ever felt before. But this fury wasn't directed towards Dumbledore, nor, surprisingly, myself (I would feel that later). It was directed towards the bastard traitor I had once been stupid enough to call my friend. I should have seen it from the beginning. Peter was always tagging along with us. We were all so big and popular, and we all had some enviable trait. James was the great Quidditch player, Remus was the smart and level-headed one, and I was the one that had girls hanging all over me. It's just the kind of person Peter was, hanging around with the people with the biggest reputation. Looking back, I have no earthly clue why we never suspected him. I actually suspected Remus before it even crossed my mind to think of Peter! The idea was ludicrous-- Remus meant too much to us, he was the whole reason James and Peter and I spent three years learning how to become animagi! Remus, the nicest, loyalist man on the planet, was the one I suspected first. I was such a fool.  
  
Then I realized how perilous my current situation really was. Dumbledore and the few others who knew I was going to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper before we switched weren't just going to sit around while I was right in front of their noses. I had to get out of here, go away and never come back. I had been too late to save Lily and James, so now I had to concentrate on saving myself.  
  
But no, I just couldn't run away like a coward! I'm Sirius Black for God's sakes! I wasn't just going to save my own tail while the world was crumbling around me-- that would make me no greater than Peter! So, as long as I was done for, I had something I needed to finish. I needed to do it for James and Lily, to avenge their gruesome deaths. And I needed to show Peter—the one who had bereaved them from me in the first place—that Sirius Black was not a force to be toyed with.  
  
I looked affectionately at my beloved motorcycle and said somberly, "Take my bike Hagrid; I won't be needing it any longer."  
  
Hagrid looked startled, but then regained his composure and said, "Alrigh' Sirius, but I'll be bringing it back ter yeh."  
  
I nodded, but I knew he would never get the chance to.  
  
I realized that I had to find Peter Pettigrew; I had to know why he did this, even if he killed me too. As a matter-of-fact, that might even be a blessing. I then laughed in spite of myself. Peter. Kill _me_. Then a wave of grief passed over me that I know not how to describe accurately, other than it was the worst thing I'd felt in my life. He had managed to kill Lily and James... why _not_ me?

After I had heard his pathetic excuses and listened half-heartedly to his groveling and wretched apologies I planned to kill him. I would show him no mercy... like he showed no mercy for Lily and James. No mercy... like when he had informed Voldemort of the Potters' whereabouts without batting an eye. He had lied to our faces through his teeth for God knows how long. He had turned traitor without bothering to stop and contemplate over whether it was right or wrong. He had not considered the innocent lives at stake. But I would make him see the error of his ways. I would force him to come to terms with his own dismal stupidity... and then I would kill him. There was no doubt in my mind.  
  
Yes, I had to find him. Too bad I didn't know that he would find me first.


End file.
